Sons of El
by TwinEnigma
Summary: Lois and Clark adopted an abandoned baby when they found out they were unable to have children. Four years later, Superman suddenly has a teen clone foisted on him. He's worried about how Superboy and the now four year old Damian will react to meeting each other. To top it off, Damian's started asking about his biological family. Who ever said parenting is easy?
1. Prologue

**Sons of El  
**

**by TwinEnigma**

_Standard Disclaimer - I do not own Young Justice, Batman: Son of the Demon or any of the characters therein. I do not do this for profit, but rather for fun and skills building._

_**NB:**__ originally posted on the YJ Anon Meme, de-anoning because I've already admitted it was me; for a prompt in which Clark is really hesitant about letting Superboy into his life because he and Lois are in a relationship and, when they discovered they couldn't have kids, they went ahead and adopted a son, Damian.__  
_

_**Warnings: **AU, spoilers for Batman: Son of the Demon and YJ season 1**  
**_

* * *

_**Prologue:**_

Damian Kent, aged four _and a half_ (the half was _very_ important), was not feeling the aster. He wasn't quite sure what that meant, either, but Robin said it when things were bad and, right now, things were Very Bad.

He was trying his very hardest not to cry, because he was big and big boys _don't_ cry, but it was very hard. He had no idea where he was, only that the crazy old man who took him said he was his grandfather and that the lady with him was his real mommy. He couldn't get out of the room they locked him in. And, worst of all, he didn't know if his daddy could find him.

That is, if he _wanted_ to find him.

Maybe his daddy didn't want him anymore. After all, his daddy already had another son now, a _real_ Kryptonian one, one who could lift up cars and buses and run super-fast, and Damian couldn't do any of those things cause he was human, like mommy.

"Stupid Connor," he muttered, sniffling and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

Daddy could have his stupid real son. Mommy wouldn't let him be sent back to the orphanage, no way. Mommy loved him and she was probably very worried.

Except… sometimes she yelled at him when he tried to do things like daddy.

Maybe she didn't really want him either.

"I want my mommy," he whimpered, hugging his knees to his chest, and cried.


	2. Two weeks earlier

**Sons of El  
**

**by TwinEnigma**

_Standard Disclaimer - I do not own Young Justice, Batman: Son of the Demon or any of the characters therein. I do not do this for profit, but rather for fun and skills building._

_**NB:**__ originally posted on the YJ Anon Meme, de-anoning because I've already admitted it was me; for a prompt in which Clark is really hesitant about letting Superboy into his life because he and Lois are in a relationship and, when they discovered they couldn't have kids, they went ahead and adopted a son, Damian.__  
_

_**Warnings: **AU, spoilers for Batman: Son of the Demon and YJ season 1**  
**_

* * *

_**Two Weeks Earlier…**_

Clark Kent, aka Superman, glowered across the kitchen table at Bruce Wayne, aka Batman, and privately contemplated that there was no one on Earth that could possibly be any more stubborn than the Bat. He simply refused to drop the issue with the cl- _Conner_ and absolutely just didn't get that Superman wasn't the boy's father. Even the knowledge that Clark already had an adoptive son with Lois, one who was jealous of other kids getting his father's attention and tended to get into mischief trying to emulate him, had really stopped the Bat. The most that had done was move the verbal insistence to nonverbal and very pointed cues that Batman would not be satisfied until Connor was sitting at the Kent family table with them for every Christmas from here to eternity.

Well, Clark amended mentally, there was one person more mulishly stubborn than Batman, but at four, Damian Kent had an excuse. At thirty-two, Bruce had no such excuse.

And Bruce was sitting there, the barest twitch betraying the hope that he might have finally got Superman to cave.

No such luck, Clark thought sourly. "It's about Damian."

"Your son," Bruce said, folding his hands together and leaning back in his chair. "What about him?"

Clark sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose at the clear disinterest. "He's asking about his real parents and why they gave him up."

"Seems like a perfectly sensible question," Bruce responded, glaring daggers at him. "Why would any parent give up a perfectly good child?"

Clark threw up his hands in frustration and stood. "You just _couldn't_ resist, could you?" he said, "You know what, I was _wrong_ to come to you about this. I should have gone to Barry – at least he'd have heard me out without judging me for a situation I had no control over!"

He then turned on his heel, heading for the door. Bruce was a friend, yes, but sometimes, god, Bruce was just so _infuriating_.

"Clark," Bruce called out, "Wait."

He paused in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder.

"I'll help," Bruce said, standing, "On one condition."

Of course, Clark mused acidly, and he could guess what it was, too.

"Think about letting Damian and Connor meet," Bruce said.

Okay… so maybe not, Clark noted and after a moment, replied, "I'll think about it."

Bruce smiled: "Good, that's all I want."

Clark had the very distinct feeling he'd just been played.


	3. Day 2

**Sons of El  
**

**by TwinEnigma**

_Standard Disclaimer - I do not own Young Justice, Batman: Son of the Demon or any of the characters therein. I do not do this for profit, but rather for fun and skills building._

_**NB:**__ originally posted on the YJ Anon Meme, de-anoning because I've already admitted it was me; for a prompt in which Clark is really hesitant about letting Superboy into his life because he and Lois are in a relationship and, when they discovered they couldn't have kids, they went ahead and adopted a son, Damian.__  
_

_**Warnings: **AU, spoilers for Batman: Son of the Demon and YJ season 1**  
**_

* * *

_**Day 2  
**_

It was the next day that Bruce Wayne arrived in Metropolis. It hadn't been hard to find an excuse to head down there: several research projects related to civilian law enforcement were under development in the Metropolis branch of Wayne Tech R & D and at least one had made a significant leap in progress. More the better, it was progress in the one project that he'd had an eye on for his own use as Batman – namely, polymorphic programmable ultra-light armored fabric. That alone made the several hours he spent sitting through demonstrations and reviewing cost analysis worth the trouble.

But, as useful as it was, that wasn't why he was here.

His initial research into Damian Kent's background had reached a dead end when it hit Brooksdale Orphanage. Damian had been found there on the doorstep nearly four and a half years ago and, despite an investigation, there had been no sign of who left him there. There was no doubt that whoever had done so had intended Damian to be found and, moreover, the expert way his umbilical cord had been taken care of and his overall good health suggested that both he and his mother had received excellent medical care. The only other detail the reports had mentioned was that Damian had been found with a woman's necklace but the photos that were supposed to be attached to the file hadn't been scanned yet due to clerical backlog in the county crime lab.

In a way, Bruce supposed this was a good thing. Jewelry tended to have very distinct maker's marks, ones that generally required a closer eye, and this way he would be able to ensure that nothing was missed. Not that it would have been, but the further one got away from the cities with large budgets to spend on crime (and the occasional donation from the Wayne Foundation), the longer things tended to take, simply because they were responsible for multiple towns and forced to rely on outsourcing for major testing.

The other good thing was that he could get a much more current picture of Damian. The last time he'd seen the boy in person, it had only been for a few moments and, as it was, he'd always tried not to look at the photos Clark was always lugging along. It wasn't that he wasn't happy for his friend or that he didn't like the idea of having kids – far from it, actually –, it was just that Bruce simply did not know how to tell him that every time he saw those photos, it was like being gutted.

Damian was the same age his son would have been, had he lived.

They might have even been friends, but, alas, it was not meant to be.

Bruce sighed, trying to clear his mind as the town car stopped in front of 1938 Sullivan Lane. Thinking about the past never helped.

He smiled at the doorman as he paged the Kent apartment and waved at the camera. The door immediately buzzed, lock clicking open, and he entered, making a beeline for the elevator. This was one time he was grateful to have cultivated a public friendly acquaintance with both Lois and Clark. No one ever questioned Bruce dropping in for lunch with either of them and it was practically guaranteed that they'd been cleared of day plans by their editor, Perry White, the second it hit Twitter that Bruce Wayne had touched down in Metropolis. Meanwhile, his anonymously developed Batman Sighting app was sending false sighting reports throughout Gotham's lower East End.

Oh, how he _loved_ the internet.

It was Clark who opened the apartment door, thirty dollars in hand and a black blanket tied around his neck. But it was the grey Bat-logo t-shirt and makeshift paper mask his friend was wearing that had him struggling to suppress a laugh.

"That's not _nearly_ enough to buy my silence, Batman," Bruce joked.

Clark rolled his eyes, stuffing the money back in his pocket and taking off the paper mask. "I thought you were the delivery guy."

"Batman gets delivery, who knew?" Bruce quipped, earning a glare. "I should get a picture. Alfred would get a kick out of it."

"If you have any attachment to that phone, you're not going to try it," Clark warned him.

"So, may I come in or are you just going to let me stand out here all day, Smallville?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow. He'd get a picture later, when Clark least expected it.

Clark waved him inside. "Come in. Don't mind the mess."

Mess was hardly accurate. If Bruce didn't know better, he'd assume a bomb had gone off inside the apartment. Cushions and pillows were scattered everywhere, the coffee table had been turned on its side, and suction-cup darts clung to just about every surface. Most of the pictures and diplomas hung askew and the floor was littered with brightly colored toys.

"I see the maid's on holiday," Bruce noted, closing the door behind him.

"Not everyone's lucky enough to have Alfred, Bruce," Clark said, stepping over a plastic tricycle and picking up one of the cushions as if on autopilot. He returned it to the couch, adding, "I don't think we've seen the floor in two years."

Bruce snorted, looking away, and deliberately nudged a fire truck with the tip of his shoe. It tipped precariously, looming over some green plastic army men, until he lowered his foot and the toy came back to rest. Idly, he wondered if his son would have played with things like this. Clearing his throat, he asked, "So, where is everyone?"

"We're _hiding_!" a child's shout came from the kitchen, followed by a shushing noise and giggles.

"Lex Luthor kidnapped the mayor," Clark deadpanned, indicating the kitchen with his thumb. "Batman and Superman were in the middle of rescuing him."

The statement caught Bruce off guard, momentarily disorienting him, and then he stopped, the words _we should go_ frozen on his tongue as it sunk in that his friend was talking about a game of pretend. After all, how many times had Lex gone and done similar stupid things? To see their adventures reduced to this was… well, he'd always heard of kids playing pretend as superheroes, but to _see_ it?

"And Superman hasn't been seen in a while, so I suppose Batman needs to find out what happened," Clark said in an exaggerated stage whisper, pulling down his mask and heading into the kitchen.

"NINJA ATTACK!" came the childish shout as a small, black-haired boy in blue pajamas launched himself at Clark's chest and Lois shouted something about Damian and the table as something crashed in the kitchen.

Clark caught him, spinning the now laughing boy around gently and lifting him up into the air. He then pulled him back down and laughed, "Ha-ha! I got you!"

Lois shouted: "Curses, my ninja failed! But, you're too late – I'm going to shoot the mayor!"

"Not the mayor!" Clark gasped dramatically and let Damian down. "Get him, Superman!"

The boy's feet had hardly touched the ground and he was off and running with war cry: "I'll stop you, Lex Luthor!"

This was the height of surreal. Bruce's head felt like it was spinning. He could even hear an obnoxious ringing.

"Oops, I think that's lunch," Lois said and then she appeared from the kitchen, a Nerf gun and Robin plush doll tucked under her arm. "Oh! Hi, Bruce. Don't mind me, just…"

She paused, looking at the doll, and then laughed, "I'm just going to put the Mayor back."

As soon as she moved, Bruce spotted Damian staring at him curiously. The boy ducked back into the kitchen, hesitantly peering around the corner at him again.

Clark, meanwhile, smiled knowingly as he brushed past him on his way to the door to get their food. "Damian, you remember Mister Wayne, right? He was at mommy's party, remember?"

Damian edged out a little further, an expression of deep thought on his face that made him look oddly intense. It was strangely familiar, though Bruce couldn't for the life of him figure out why. Maybe he'd picked it up from Clark.

Yes, that was it, Bruce decided, nodding and waving at the child.

"Are you…?" Damian asked, pausing. He then made a scowling face and pinched his index fingers to his thumbs over his eyes, raising his other fingers straight up. It had the overall effect of a childish caricature of his Batman cowl.

Bruce winked and brought his finger to his lips in a shushing motion.

The little boy's eyes grew impossibly wide and he rushed to Clark's side, tugging on his pants leg. Clark scooped him up with one arm, easily slinging him over one hip in a move that spoke of practice, and held out the takeaway bag. "Here, Bruce, take this."

He suddenly found his hands full of slightly greasy paper bag carrying the intense scent of marinara and garlic bread, while Clark ended up with the boy clinging to his chest like a tiny human-shaped Starro.

"Let's eat," Lois said, returning. "Being an evil mastermind is harder than it sounds. I'm starving."

* * *

Lunch eaten and an exhausted Damian tucked into bed for a nap, the three adults now had the apartment to themselves. The chatter was light and, mercifully, tip-toed around the entire subject of children and superheroics. In fact, Bruce suspected the two of them had just been utterly desperate to talk to another adult for more than five minutes outside of their jobs.

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but this feature isn't going to write itself," Lois said finally, giving Clark a kiss on the cheek and getting up from the couch.

"Which is Lois for _I'm going to take a nap,_" Clark explained in a stage-whisper.

Lois rolled her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she paused halfway to their bedroom. "I'm a grown woman and I can take a nap if I want to, so _there._ Besides, as soon as your son is finished recharging, he's going to be crawling up the walls like a spider monkey. I'm going to need _all_ the energy I can get."

Clark chuckled, winking at her. "Well, as long as you remember that before dawn, he's _your_ son."

"Whatever you say, Mufasa," Lois quipped. "Later, Bruce."

The bedroom door closed and then it was just the two of them.

"So…" Clark said, leaning forward. It was quite clear that the Man of Steel was at a loss for words, unable to decide where to begin or even what to ask.

"How much do you know about Damian's history?" Bruce asked.

"Just what was on record," Clark answered, relaxing a little. "Healthy newborn male, abandoned at Brooksdale Orphanage – Lois and I, we helped with some of the human interest articles."

Bruce nodded absently. It seems that they knew just as much as everyone else involved. "What about this necklace?"

"Well, the police suggested using the necklace description to screen out imposters," Clark admitted sheepishly, standing, and approached a cluttered desk in the corner. Unlocking the bottom drawer, he reached in to pull out a box and added, "What few people did try to claim him couldn't describe it to the police."

Bruce eyed the box, fingers itching to open it. "I won't lie to you, Clark. That necklace may be the _only_ clue to his parentage."

"What about the missing persons database?" Clark asked, sitting back down.

"NamUs," Bruce corrected, eyes fixed on the box as his friend set it down gently on the coffee table. "May I?"

"Yes, of course," Clark said, drawing back a bit. "But do you think it's worth a shot? I could give you a lock of Damian's hair to use."

Bruce ignored him, carefully opening the box and parting the tissue paper inside. Baby shoes, a blue beanie, one carefully-folded baby blanket, and some photos, mostly of an infant Damian being coddled by unknown nurses and policemen. Then, his fingers hit plastic and the unmistakable feel of a hard shape. He pulled it out, finally getting a look at the fabled necklace, and suddenly he reeled back, like he had the wind knocked right out of him.

This necklace… it couldn't be! It was impossible!

"Bruce? Are you alright?" Clark asked in alarm, already halfway to his feet. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Maybe he had. He needed to leave, verify. Surely, he had to be mistaken because that would mean that… No, he _had_ to be mistaken. "I'm… I'm sorry, Clark. I don't think the marinara agreed with me. I… I should get going."

"Are you sure?" Clark gave him a disbelieving look. "You don't look so good."

"I'll be fine," he lied, still holding the necklace. "Can I take this with me?"

"Sure, yeah," Clark said, now deeply concerned. "Take whatever you need. And I'll get you that lock of hair."

Bruce scooped up the box, too, stuffing the necklace back in it, and left, desperate to hide the fact that his heart was breaking all over again.

He wanted to believe it couldn't be true, but in his gut, he already knew.

"Oh, Talia... _why?_"

* * *

**AN: ** Dramatic irony, thy name is Bruce Wayne and this chapter.

NamUs - aka National Missing and Unidentified Persons System


	4. Day 4

**Sons of El  
**

**by TwinEnigma**

_Standard Disclaimer - I do not own Young Justice, Batman: Son of the Demon or any of the characters therein. I do not do this for profit, but rather for fun and skills building._

_**NB:**__ originally posted on the YJ Anon Meme, de-anoning because I've already admitted it was me; for a prompt in which Clark is really hesitant about letting Superboy into his life because he and Lois are in a relationship and, when they discovered they couldn't have kids, they went ahead and adopted a son, Damian.__  
_

_**Warnings: **AU, spoilers for Batman: Son of the Demon and YJ season 1**  
**_

* * *

_**Day 4  
**_

It was two days later and while in the middle of trying to talk Damian out of a box of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs at the store that Clark's cellphone started to spit out the melody "Am I Blue." It had been Bruce's ringtone ever since the Karaoke Incident and rarely ever did it bode well. This week had certainly been a case in point. The way Bruce's face had drained of color when he saw the necklace – well, it certainly hadn't given Clark a good feeling about where the search for his son's birth parents was going and, to be honest, he was sort of dreading the call.

"Damian, end of discussion, put it back," Clark said firmly, pressing Accept Call and holding up the phone. "Bruce?"

Damian, meanwhile, pouted and reluctantly put the cereal back on the shelf. Now, if only they could make it through Frozen Goods without him throwing a tantrum over ice cream.

"Sorry to disappoint," the all-too familiar nasally voice of one Dick Grayson responded.

"What's up?" Clark asked, watching out of the corner of his eye as Damian eyed another colorful box of sugar-encrusted cereal.

"Something's up with Bruce," Dick stated and he didn't need to be Superman to hear the badly-concealed worry in the adolescent's voice. There was a slight pause before Dick continued, "He's locked himself up in the Cave and won't talk to anyone."

Oh, this definitely didn't bode well. "I'm sure he'll come around. You know how he is."

Damian looked back at him curiously and drifted back to his side. His tiny hand slipped into Clark's, his eyes going from the cellphone to his face and back.

On the other end of the line, Dick sighed. "Look, I know he was working a case for you as a favor. I didn't ask, but… it's really freaking me out, okay? Could you just… I don't know… _talk_ to him?"

Mentally, Clark cussed. "Dick, I'm in the middle of a grocery store with my son. I can't exactly," he pauses, eyeing the civilians in the aisle and lamely finishes, "get a sitter on short notice here."

Damian scowled: he hated sitters and it was always a fight with him to even allow it.

"I can watch him," Dick said, a little too quickly. "I'm good with kids."

Damn it, the kid really _was _spooked.

Clark sighed, feeling a headache coming on, and relented: "Okay, fine. We'll hop the Z-line and be there ASAP."

"I'll have a car waiting," the relief in the teen's voice was palpable.

The called ended and Clark clicked the lock on the phone, stuffing it in his pocket. He then knelt down, looking right into the wary eyes of his son. "Hey, champ, how would you like to meet the real Robin?"

Damian was still a moment, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Then, a slow, shy smile started to creep across his lips.

That was a 'yes' in his book any day.

* * *

**AN: **_Dick, you have no idea what you're getting into._


	5. Day 4 part 2

**Sons of El  
**

**by TwinEnigma**

_Standard Disclaimer - I do not own Young Justice, Batman: Son of the Demon or any of the characters therein. I do not do this for profit, but rather for fun and skills building._

_**NB:**__ originally posted on the YJ Anon Meme, de-anoning because I've already admitted it was me; for a prompt in which Clark is really hesitant about letting Superboy into his life because he and Lois are in a relationship and, when they discovered they couldn't have kids, they went ahead and adopted a son, Damian.__  
_

_**Warnings: **AU, spoilers for Batman: Son of the Demon and YJ season 1**  
**_

* * *

_**Day 4 (part 2)  
**_

Wayne Manor rolled slowly into view, looming on the cliffs just outside of Gotham like a castle straight out of the ghost stories Clark used to be terrified of as a kid. It honestly looked haunted and, to this day, he couldn't understand how Bruce had managed to live there all his life without going crazy.

Well, crazier than normal, at any rate, Clark amended mentally.

Gently, he nudged Damian, who had fallen asleep. "Hey, kiddo, time to wake up."

Damian scowled, balling his hands into fists as he squeezed his eyes tightly and stubbornly shut, and curled his tiny body tighter against Clark's side. Fortunately, Clark was well-versed in unfurling stubborn toddlers (and troublesome Pulitzer-Prize reporters) who just didn't want to get up. There was a certain trick to it.

He very carefully tickled his son right under the armpit and, like a shot, the boy sat up, reflexively swatting at him.

_"Dad_," Damian whined, sulkily. "No tickling! I'm not a baby."

"Sorry, champ," Clark said, smiling, "We're almost there."

Damian's eyes widened as he crawled into Clark's lap and he immediately locked on to the manor growing steadily larger as the car drew closer. "That's Batman's house?"

"Yep," Clark affirmed.

"It's _big_," Damian said in awe. "Bigger than the President's House!"

And with slightly more insane security, Clark mentally noted. "I heard he has a rocket ship in there somewhere."

His son's eyes widened even further.

"And he's got a giant robot dinosaur in the Batcave," Clark added.

"Wow," Damian breathed, pressing his hands against the glass as he leaned forward. "Can I have–"

"No," Clark replied firmly. "You'll just have to settle for the kid-size robot dinosaur."

Damian pouted at him for a record fifteenth of a second and then turned back to the window. "It's okay. Mommy doesn't like robot dinosaurs anyway."

A fact which had nothing to do with toys and everything to do with how Professor Ivo was kind enough to unleash robotic velociraptors on the fundraiser for Metropolis Central Hospital. That had been a _painful_ night in Clark's recollection and Lois still twitched whenever dinosaur toys were advertised during Damian's cartoons.

"I see someone! Is that him?" Damian asked, sitting up straighter, his face practically pressed to the glass. "Daddy, daddy,_ daddy!_"

The last 'daddy' was intoned so insistently that Clark winced reflexively. "Yep, I see. That's Robin."

"How come he's not wearing his costume?" Damian asked, wrinkling his nose.

"It's like how daddy doesn't wear his costume when we're home," Clark explained. "So you can't tell anyone other than mommy, okay? It's a Big Superhero Secret."

His son nodded solemnly and wrapped his tiny pinkie finger around Clark's in an unspoken promise as the car finally rolled to a stop.

To be fair, Clark didn't really expect a four-year-old to understand quite how serious keeping secret identities secret was, but he and Lois had tried to be up front about it with him. It was really the only secret kept in their house and it impacted only people outside the family. There were times he could tell Damian was positively squirming with the desire to tell other kids that his daddy was cooler because he's Superman, but so far, he'd managed to keep admirably quiet for a kid his age – even if Damian did have to put both his hands over his mouth to keep from blurting it out sometimes.

Today would actually be the first time Damian would meet a kid outside the family from the superhero community and, while Clark was sure Damian didn't fully comprehend what that meant, he supposed on some level that the lack of having to keep a big secret from a new acquaintance would be a huge relief to his son. And, lord knew, it would be good for Damian to have someone he could relate to that was a little closer to his age.

The door opened, Alfred standing by patiently for his charges to exit.

Damian slid off Clark's lap and onto the gravel driveway, his head craning back almost comically as he tried to look up at the huge manor. Clark followed, gently guiding him away from the car and towards the smirking slight figure of Dick Grayson that lingered on the manor steps.

"Damian," Clark said, distracting his son from the huge house, "This is Dick."

"Also known as Robin, the Boy Wonder," Dick added, bowing with a flourish and dropping into a spectacular tumble and flip combo that elicited pure awe from Damian. Clark was noticeably less impressed, having both seen much more impressive from Dick before and getting the all-too familiar sense that by the time the sun set Damian would want to an acrobat, too. On the other hand, at least it would be a slightly more feasible goal than Damian's current desire to be Batman.

"How'd you do that?" Damian asked.

"I can show you if you'd like," Dick replied, grinning and holding out his hand.

And so it starts. Clark mentally sighed, making a note to talk to Lois about signing Damian up for gymnastics lessons, and gave Damian a reassuring smile.

The four-year-old, seeing he wasn't going anywhere, hesitantly took Dick's hand. "Is it true Batman's got a rocket ship in his house?"

Dick laughed brightly and gave him a mischievous smile, "You betcha. Batman's got all kinds of cool stuff! "

"Like a giant dinosaur?" Damian asked.

"Yeah," Dick answered, starting to guide him inside, "And the Batmobile!"

Damian dug his heels in, looking over his shoulder at Clark.

"It's okay, Damian," Clark said. "You can go play with Dick. I'm just going to talk to Mister Wayne for a little while."

Damian's lip slipped into full-on pout. Tears and sniffling were inevitably to follow. A massive separation anxiety-fueled tantrum loomed just beyond that on the horizon.

Clark should have known: nothing about introducing new people, even if they _are_ respected superheroes, to his son would be easy.

"Hey, Little D," Dick dropped into a crouch, plopping himself right in front of Damian. "You're adopted, right?"

Damian, startled right out of his sniffling, gave a bewildered nod. "An' dad. Dad's adopted."

"Me too," Dick said kindly. "And so is Batman."

Clark could practically hear Alfred rolling his eyes skyward at the embellishment, but he was more intent on the subtle relaxation of his son's muscles as the information sunk in that not only was Robin adopted just like him, so was the very superhero Damian had spent the last few days aspiring to be. Even though Damian was far too young to understand that Bruce and Dick's respective situations were nowhere near the same as either of the Kent boys, Clark knew for a fact that it didn't matter: in Damian's eyes, they _understood_.

Idly, Clark wished he'd known other adopted kids when he was Damian's age. It certainly would have made _some_ aspects of growing up and coping with all that came with his situation a little easier. Certain things he'd just accepted he'd never quite completely come to terms with, but Damian didn't have to have that experience, not if Clark could help it.

"Do you remember your mommy?" Damian asked quietly. "I dream about mine sometimes."

Clark looked away. In the back of his mind, he could see his own birth parents as his ship had recorded them while Krypton died.

"You never forget," Dick told him with a hand over his heart. It sounded more like a promise. Maybe it was.

Damian sniffled. "Is that normal?"

"Yeah," Dick said, standing up. He held out his hand again. "Come on, Little D. The grown-ups have got to talk about _boring_ stuff."

This time, Damian took the older boy's hand easily and allowed Dick to lead him inside, listening to the older boy prattle on about all the cool things Bruce had amassed in the Manor.

Clark watched them go before turning to Alfred and quirking an eyebrow. The older man had such a strange, almost pained look on his face, but the second he noticed Clark looking, it disappeared behind a distant, professional veneer.

"Master Wayne is in his _office_," Alfred stated simply. "He's been expecting you."

"Of course," Clark noted, unsurprised.

After all, nothing escaped Batman's notice for long.

* * *

The secret door leading down the Cave was unlocked and, slowly, Clark made his way downstairs. As much as Bruce was his friend and the fact that Dick summoned him here out of concern for Bruce, he wasn't so sure he really wanted to know what was going on. There was this steadily growing ball of dread forming in his gut that this had to do with Damian's birth parents. Could Bruce have uncovered something awful about their pasts? Or perhaps, he fervently hoped, it was something else entirely that had triggered this latest bleak episode in his friend.

At the bottom of the stairs, he hesitated. One of the viewscreens was shattered, a fist-sized hole through it. Bruce, wearing the Batsuit with his face uncovered, was slumped in a chair, a file dangling from his fingertips and his back to Clark. And yet, he had no doubts that the Bat knew he was there, a fact confirmed when Bruce broke the silence: "You came."

"Yeah, well, your son was worried about you," Clark said, stepping closer.

Bruce let out a strained, funny noise at that.

"I, um, brought you a sample," he said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a plastic baggy with a Flash-Logo bandaid in it. "Damian scraped his knee yesterday, pretending he was _you,_ and you know how little kids are with band-aids…"

Bruce didn't respond, but the muscles in his neck and shoulders contracted in a subtle concealed flinch.

"The analyzer's over here, right?" Clark asked, pulling the bandaid out as he moved towards one of the computers.

"It's not necessary," Bruce said flatly, standing.

A dozen emotions shot through Clark in the space of a heartbeat. Oh god, he'd found them. Bruce had _found_ them. He'd had a list of questions ready for Bruce, too, but he couldn't even think of which one to ask first.

Bruce drifted away, his back still to Clark, and idly flipped the pages of the file with a finger. For a moment he didn't say anything, and then he spoke: "Tell me, why did you want to know?"

There was no easy answer to that. Clark sighed heavily and answered honestly, "Because Damian will want to. Maybe not today, but someday he'll want to understand the parts of himself that come from his blood. And I want to be able to tell Damian the truth when he asks for it. You probably wouldn't understand. You at least _remember_ your parents. You had them for years before they were taken from you. But for me and Damian, it's different. We _never_ got to know them."

Again, Bruce's entire frame stiffened and Clark found himself almost instinctively pausing, an apology about bringing up the taboo subject of his friend's parents on the tip of his tongue.

Instead, words that felt like they had been stacking up forever tumbled out of his mouth: "I've spent most of my whole life wondering if my parents were like me, if they had the same powers, and dreaming that if I found them, they would tell me _why._ It's like having this hole in your heart you can never fill or like you're a puzzle piece that doesn't quite fit and you just want to find the rest of the puzzle, but you're terrified of losing the one you have."

Turning back, he finished, "You have _no_ idea what it took for me to work up the courage to go and look for them and I don't want him to have to go through what I did."

Bruce was quiet.

"Look, Bruce," Clark sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Could you just tell me what's going on? You did find them, right?"

The sardonic snort that came from Bruce wasn't reassuring at all. "Oh yes," he said bitterly, "I know who his parents are, all right. The necklace was a wedding gift to his mother."

Clark barely had time to wonder what he meant by that before his friend tossed the file at him.

"Her name is Talia. She's the daughter of Ra's al Ghul," Bruce stated, finally turning to look at him, and – god, had he been _crying?_ Bruce's face hardened, a bitter scowl on his lips as he finished, "And my _wife._"

* * *

**AN: **_Oh shit.  
_

_Also somehow this is the chapter where adoptee feels exploded all over the place.  
_

_Still no Superboy yet, but give me time. Supes still has to warm up to the idea of allowing them to meet.  
_


End file.
